


Trapped

by KatLeePT



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatLeePT/pseuds/KatLeePT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Jareth learns that he is trapped in the labyrinth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

        He knew he should feel guilt as he clung to the old man's gnarled hand and felt time and power, the very life, slipping out of him, but yet, he could not. He had, after all, stolen him from his true father. He had taken him from his parents when he had been a child of no more than four of five years. Jareth did not remember exactly; he did not even know when his birthday was or what year in which he had been born.

        He did not remember his parents' names or where he had lived. He did not know if his hair should naturally be blonde or if he had his mother's or father's eyes or nose. For all he knew, he might look nothing like either of them. He'd often wondered if he shared any of their interests, but that, too, had been another common rite of passage that had been taken from him by this creature now passing away before him.

        The magic fizzled in the old King. One second, he lay in his Goblin form, and in the next, he was human again. He had lost all control of what little power he still possessed while most of his power had already gone into Jareth. He held to the old man's hand even when his Goblin claws cut into the tender flesh of his palm. He held to him as he died, his own eyes hard, unblinking, and with not even the slightest trace of moisture to them.

        When the magic finally stopped moving, the old King lay still and cold in his human form. It was ironic, Jareth thought, standing, and sad for him that he should only be allowed to stay in his true form now that he could no longer appreciate it or even breathe with his human lungs. He looked down at the King's corpse with distaste in his own, twisted eyes and then looked at his hands. They were human for now, flesh, blood, and white, but they had been green and gnarled far too often.

        He was not a Goblin. He would never be a Goblin, and now, at last, he was free. With their King dead, the Goblins had nothing with which to hold him. They wailed as he turned about on the heels of his black, leather boots to face them. He looked at one long, sad, and ugly face after another, and then he threw his head back and laughed.

        He was free! It didn't matter if the old man was dead! It didn't matter if this whole world died or how many Goblins cried or were slaughtered! He was free, and he wasn't going to stand here in this realm of magic and deceit where he did not belong for even a second longer! He wrapped his cloak around him and vanished.

        He flew to the upper world on the snowy white wings of an owl. He touched down first upon a tree, but his talons had barely lit there before he released the branch and soared on down to the green grass below. The owl's feathers, talons, and beak sucked back into his body, becoming replaced with human skin as smooth and white as ivory, mortal teeth, and dull fingernails. Jareth looked down at himself and felt like crowing with his victory.

        He was naked, but a quick flick of his wrist fixed that triviality. Tight trousers and jacket, both made of leather, swiftly covered his nakedness. Another flick of his wrist added a white, peasant's blouse and a couple of necklaces to his chest.

        He raced across the park's rich soil until he came to a body of water. He peered down at his reflection and smiled. He may never know if he looked like either of his parents, but he was handsome. He turned and set out in the mortal world, determined that he would make his fortune in this land and live long and prosperous. Men looked upon him in envy, women in heat as they laughed behind their hands.

        He smiled at the sound of their laughter. It had been so long since he'd heard human laughter that he nearly forgotten what a delightful, bubbling sound it could make. Goblins did not sound nice at all when they laughed. Their giggles were hisses, and their laughs made the ice of deadly danger slide down the spines of all mortals who heard them.

        There was nothing pretty about Goblins, not about their bodies or their mannerisms or their attitudes or even their world. This new land was full of brightly colored things and beautiful sights, and he was eager to take them all in. He traversed the city in a single night, flying to the tops of the tallest buildings, skimming over fountains, and bounding across busy highways without a care and while never knowing why the humans made such awful sounds at him with their carriages sounding like geese whose feathers were being plucked by greedy and mauling Goblin claws. Perhaps it was a sound of adoration. He didn't know and couldn't care less. It didn't matter if the humans liked him or not; their world would be his.

        Golden rays suddenly struck his leather boots, and Jareth stood still in awe. The sun was coming up! The man who had meant to be his predecessor to the Goblin throne had often talked about sunrises and sets above ground. He had told them there was nothing more beautiful than a land coming awake in the golden rays of the morning sun, and as Jareth stood transfixed, watching the sunrise, he found himself, for the first time, agreeing with the old King.

        Then a scream split out from behind him. Jareth whirled toward the racket. He had not heard such an awful commotion in days, not since the female Goblin called Trely had discovered the King was dying. The humans were stopping their carriages, and all were looking at him. Hands clasped to faces and covered mouths. The carriages screamed even more loudly than the humans.

        Jareth looked at them, puzzled, and then pain blasted into his shoulder. The pain was accompanied by the sound of a shot that was far weaker than any cannon he had ever heard. He looked down at his arm; crimson blood was pouring down over his new outfit. He frowned as he touched himself and found the blood to be his.

        Why were the humans attacking him? They had liked him just the night before. They had all looked at him in admiration until the sun had come up, but now they were screaming at him, running, and making other, awful noises. Another shot sounded, but Jareth ran before it could strike him.

        The humans chased him as he raced for safety. He soon found himself back at the park where he had began his journey in this land above ground. He ran to the pond to see if something had changed about himself, and then he screamed. His gloved hands went to his face and felt, in horror, of the gnarled, green flesh that had been so pretty the night before.

        A sad voice spoke quietly from directly behind him. "This what happens when King try be human."

        Jareth turned slowly to face the she Goblin. He wanted to kick her as he'd done so many times before, but that wasn't all. He wanted to grab her up and rip her limb from limb like the Goblins did to the chickens they ate for dinner. But then he saw the tears in her eyes.

        Trely blinked up at him. "Trely sorry, but spell not broken till new King comes."

        "But -- But the King is dead!"

        "No." The little Goblin slowly shook her head. "Jareth King now."

        "I don't want to be King! I want to be human like I am!"

        "Jareth only human if find new King."

        Jareth suddenly found himself with no further time to argue with the Goblin as the humans poured into the park. Shots rang around them. Trely wailed and hit the ground. She pulled her tiny body up into a tight ball and truly wept. "Humans mean."

        The Goblins were the cruel ones, Jareth thought, but if the humans caught them now, they would surely kill them both. He dismissed that thought as he remembered the lessons the King had taught him. He had great magic at his disposal even in this land. He could save himself, but what good would it do him if every day, he looked as he did now?

        With a yell of rage thundering from his lungs, Jareth dove through the rain of bullets and snatched Trely from the ground even as he began to change. His clothes fluttered down to the earth beneath him as, in owl form once more, he winged his way away from the humans and their world and back into his condemnation. He returned to the Labyrinth just as the Goblins were preparing to set fire to their King's body.

        He released Trely letting from his talons before he landed and told himself he did not care as her tiny, fragile body bumped several times across the hard and rocky ground. That pain, after all, was the least she deserved for her role in trapping him in this land and role, both of which he had never wanted. After he had landed, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

        The feathers once more fused into skin. The beak shriveled up into a nose, and his claws returned to fingernails. Standing on human feet, his toes spread across the dirt, Jareth quickly patted himself down. He was human again, but he knew, now, only in this world. He fought to keep the tears of dismay that threatened to pour from his heart from being released through his eyes.

        A snap of his fingers returned clothes to his body. He strode forward and grabbed the torch from the lead Goblin. One glower from their new King sent the other Goblins scampering. Jareth strode forward, torch in hand, and lit the funeral pyre. He watched in silence as the old King burned, and with the flames dancing in his eyes, the new King finally cried.

 

  
**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.


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